Remember
by queenofanimeandstuff
Summary: I don't know who I am or where I belong. All I know is that I was in an accident and now I'm trapped in a mental facility. How am I going to get through this? Some friends would be helpful. JeanxArmin and mentions of JeanxMarco. Rated T for mention of character death and depression. It's a little darker than my normal work, but it's still enjoyable!
1. Lights

Darkness. That's all I can comprehend. One of my eyes slowly cracks open, a ray of light cutting through endless nothing. Ouch. Why is everything so bright? It hurts my eyes. I don't want to look at anything right now. I want the darkness back. I close my eyes. A female voice breaks through the silence.

"Can you tell me your name, sir?" Her voice is calm. Weirdly calm.

"No." Why does she want to know?

"Do you remember your name?" That's a stupid question. Of course I do.

"It's… My name is…" Wait. What is my name? "I… don't know."

"It's okay. Do you know where you came from?" Sure. I can remember that.

"I live in… um…" I know I live somewhere. Where? "I… don't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay. Do you remember what happened?" What does she mean by that?

"No. What happened?"

"You were in an accident." Her voice is still a little too calm. What accident is she talking about?

"I don't remember. What kind of accident? How bad?" I don't feel any pain. It can't be that bad.

"You don't need to worry. The doctor will tell you everything soon. For now, try to think of you. Tell me something about yourself." I can do that. Definitely. I know myself better than anyone.

"I…" Wait.

"It's okay if you don't know right now. It will come back to you." What? She's speaking nonsense.

"What will come back to me?"

"Your memory. The doctor has diagnosed you with Traumatic Amnesia. It's the term for temporarily losing part or all of your memory after a traumatic event, such as the accident you were in. But you don't have any reason to worry. In cases like yours memory loss typically doesn't last long. Your memory should be back to normal in a few days." Amnesia? I really hope that's all I have.

"I don't feel any pain. Was I hurt?" If I don't feel it then it's not injured, right?

"The doctor will be in soon to review the rest of the damage. You went into surgery directly after admission to the hospital." Surgery? That doesn't sound good.

"When will the doctor get here?" Please say soon.

"He is seeing another patient just now, but he will be back momentarily. Do you have any questions?" Do I? Surely I can ask the doctor when I think of a one.

"No."

"If you're okay to be alone for a few minutes, I have another patient to go see. Is that alright?"

"Of course. Thank you."

"My pleasure." I hear her footsteps move across the room. Then the door closes and I'm alone. I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light. I am lying down in a hospital bed. Everything in the room is white. So… sterile.

I look down at my legs. They are both in casts from my feet to my knees. That's weird. Why didn't I feel that? The door opens. I crane my head to see a man who looks to be in his late twenties entering the room. He's blonde and has blue eyes. His smile is warm, and it makes me feel more comfortable. The man speaks.

"Hi there. My name is Erwin. I'll be your doctor for today. I have a couple of questions for you if that's okay." He keeps smiling. I nod. "Have you seen yourself in any mirrors since the accident?" That's a really weird question.

"Um… no."

"Okay. Can you describe your appearance for me?" Can I?

"I'm… blonde?" I think?

"Yes. That's good. What color are your eyes?" Oh. I think I know this one.

"They're… blue I believe." Yeah. That seems right. I have blue eyes.

"That's right. You're doing a great job. Can you tell me how old you are?" Oh.

"Uh… I don't know."

"That's fine. Did the nurse ask you what your name is?"

"Yeah. But… I don't know it." It's on the tip of my tongue, really. It starts with a 'b.' Wait- no; I think it's an 'n.' No, that's not right either. I thought I knew. Maybe not.

"That's alright; it will probably be the thing that comes back first. It shouldn't take long."

I nod. "That's what the nurse said."

"If there are any details that you remember about your home or friends, please tell someone. It will be helpful in getting you home as soon as possible."

Yeah. Home sounds good. Better than this place. Wait, what is this place? "Um… where exactly am I now?"

He smiles. "The New York Institute of Mental Rehabilitation. It's for patients who have temporary mental issues. But I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time. Now, let's talk about your legs. Do you know the details of the accident?"

I shake my head. "The nurse said you would tell me."

"Of course. Now, I don't want you to worry, you are in good hands here." I nod. "The witnesses said that you ran out into the street without looking. There was a car going over the speed limit and the driver wasn't paying attention. When they hit you, you went over the top of the car and hit your head on the ground pretty hard. You're lucky your scull wasn't damaged, but you have a concussion and the impact is what triggered the amnesia.

"Your legs were fractured and there was a small crack in your lower back. You went into surgery to have your spine correctly re-aligned. We think the nerves are still intact, but we're not entirely sure. We'll know when you get your casts off. The fracture in your right leg wasn't as severe as in your left, so it will heal faster. Once your spine heals you'll be able to use crutches, but until then you'll need to use a wheelchair."

Wow. That's a lot to take in all at once. My mind is still stuck on the nerves in my back. "You said you can't be sure if the nerves are still intact. What happens if they aren't?"

His smile falters a little. "If the nerves are shattered, it is likely you won't be able to control your body from the waist down. But your odds are bright. The likelihood of the nerves being shattered is small."

"What exactly are the odds?" Never using my legs again? That's terrifying.

"I think you should focus more on getting better. Don't worry about the odds now. Just know that the staff here is going to do everything they can to help you heal as fast as possible."

I don't know how to respond. What he's saying is much comfort. I'm hung up on the whole spinal thing. I don't know who I am and my legs are broken and I may never be able to walk again and the people who love me aren't here to support me. There might not even be people who love me. What if I never remember? Do I have friends who will come looking for me? What if they can't find me? What if they aren't looking in the first place? What if I don't have friends? But surely I do. I just need to remember them. Then they can come get me and take me home. But where is home? I don't know. I'm in New York. Do I live here? Where is New York? I just want to know my name. That's all I want. If I remember it I can find my friends and family and then this will be over.

I don't notice the tears running down my face until the doctor snaps me out of it.

"I know you're afraid and confused. What you're feeling is normal. I'm sure you'll start remembering things soon. You just need to hang in there a little longer. It will get better, I promise." I nod my head. "Good. I have to go now. Is that okay?" I look up. He can't leave me here by myself. I'll go insane trying to remember who I am if nobody is here to distract me.

"Wait. I don't want to be alone." He nods in understanding.

"Would you like to go to the visiting room? There will be some other patients there if you need company." I nod my head. "I'll have a nurse come and escort you there. Just wait a little bit." He leaves and I'm alone again. But not for an unbearably long time; a nurse comes in quickly. She helps me get into the wheelchair next to the bed. I just noticed the brace on my back. It must be helping my spine.

The nurse wheels me out of my room and down the hallway. We come to a little sitting room. There are only a few people here, none of whom I recognize, obviously. I thank the nurse and she leaves. I look around. There's a piano in the corner and I'm drawn to it. I pull my wheelchair up to it and take the cover off. Do I know how to play? Let's see.

I put my hands on the keys the way it feels natural. I close my eyes. I can do this.

 **A/N: Wow! I'm on a role! I've already written the next two chapters and started on the fourth! But I'll probably re-write most of it before uploading. Jean is introduced in the next chapter. Yay!**

 **As always, enjoy, favorite, follow, review, and the like! And don't forget to check out my other work. (Shamelessly self-advertising.)**


	2. Jean

A tune comes to me and I touch a few of the keys on the instrument. I smile. It sounds nice in my ears. I can recognize the song that I'm playing. What's the name? I don't know but I like it. There are words that should go with it, but I don't remember them. I let my fingers move as they will, and they don't falter. The song is easy and playful. It slows down and speeds up at points. It is sweet to listen to. I don't know how I learned it but the chords and melodies are like an old friend to me.

The end is slow, and it finishes with a dissonance. I open my eyes again and wipe the tears from my face. I didn't realized I was crying again. I hear applause from behind me and turn to see where it's coming from. There is a man who looks to be in his late teens or early twenties sitting by the window clapping for me. I wave at him and he gestures for me to come see him. I maneuver my wheelchair around the furniture and park next to him, looking out the window.

He speaks first. "That was beautiful. Where did you learn?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Oh…. Amnesia?" I nod. "What type?" I think back to what the nurse told me.

"I think she said Traumatic." I nod. That sounds right.

He nods. "If you don't mind my asking, what caused it?"

"Well, obviously I don't remember it, but they told me I was in an accident. I was hit by a car."

"That's unfortunate. When did you get here?"

"Yesterday, I think. Maybe two days ago. I just woke up this morning. At least, I think it was morning. What time is it?"

He points to the clock on the wall. "Half past four in the afternoon. Two hours till dinner."

"Thanks." We sit quietly for a while before I ask, "What's your name?"

He pseudo-smiles. "Jean Kirstein. Yours?"

I frown. "I don't know." I look up at him. "But it's nice to meet you, Jean."

"Yeah. You too." We look out the window for a while. When I look back at him his face is twisted into a scowl and he seems deep in thought.

"Jean? You okay?" He looks up, startled.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. I do that a lot. Sorry." He smiles, but something about it is off. His eyes still look sad.

"Are you sure?" He nods and looks back outside.

Out the window I can see a city. Lots of cars are passing on the street below but I can't hear them. There are lights everywhere. I can see people walking down the street, some of them alone and some accompanied. They're all walking so fast. I wish I could be down there walking with them. That would be nice. I sigh.

"Hey Jean?" He hums in response. "What's the name of this city?"

"New York City, New York."

"I think I've heard of it. Somewhere." He looks at me.

"It's one of the most famous cities in the world. It's a symbol of liberty and independence, or something like that."

"Oh. I didn't know that. Well, I probably did at one point." I huff.

Jean hums. "So… what can you remember? Wait- sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

I put up my hands to show it's alright to ask. "No no, it's fine. I'm not sensitive about it. I remember what I look like. And of course how to play piano. But other than that… nothing."

"Nothing?" I shake my head. "So… your family?"

"I don't know. I might not have one, as far as I can tell."

"And your friends? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" I shake my head.

"No idea. I don't know where I'm from so I can't contact them. I think I had friends. At least, I hope. I mean, I can't have been that much of a loser, right? There has to be someone out there looking for me. Right?" I realize I'm crying again. Have I always cried this much? I don't know. I wipe my eyes and sniffle. "I'm just confused." I put on another big smile, but I can feel it's fake.

Jean puts his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, I know what it's like to lose your friend." I look at him.

"You do?" He nods.

"It's kind of why I'm here." He pulls his hand back and looks out the window. He waits a minute before continuing. "My uh… my boyfriend. Marco. He died a while ago." He takes a deep breath. "It was… sudden and unexpected. I mean, I tried to cope. I thought I had let go of it. But…" He closes his eyes. Clearly it's not easy for him to talk about. I put my hand on his shoulder. He breaths again.

"Depression. My family thinks I'm a danger to myself. And to be fair I kind of am. They dealt with me for a while but… I guess it was just too much for them. Mom still visits sometimes. But Dad… well he didn't really want me to be with Marco. He thinks Marco just ruined my life all together, alive and dead. But he didn't. Marco couldn't ruin a life if he tried. He was too nice."

He sighs and stops speaking for a couple minutes. Then he continues. "I just… Marco was… he was the world to me. I didn't know who I was without him. We were like two halves that made up a whole. And then one half was gone, and I was lost." The heartache is apparent in his voice.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't respond. "Marco. What was he like?" Jean smiles as if he can see Marco right in front of him.

"His hair was brown and really soft. His eyes… they were beautiful. This brown that was in between chocolate and caramel. And they lit up when he smiled. His smile, it could melt anyone's heart in an instant. And he had freckles, lots of them. They were adorable." He pauses. "And… he always saw the best in people. He didn't hate anyone, and he was impossible to dislike.

"He deserved the best. And I always tried to give it to him. He was just so… so _pure._ He… I don't know what kind of miracle it was that he liked me. I didn't deserve someone as great as he was." He stops, gulping down a giant breath and covering his mouth. After a few seconds he puts his hand down, bites his lip, and keeps going.

"We were going to get married, when he finished school. I… when he… when he died. I… I couldn't… he was my everything. His smile was what I looked forward to every day. I just… I'm never going to see that smile again. And how do I just give him up? I can't pretend he didn't exist. It would be like… giving up everything that I am. He _defined_ me."

He's crying, but he looks so angry. I don't what I can say that will make him feel better. I don't remember comforting people. I take his hand and squeeze it.

"I can't pretend to know how you feel. When I heal- if I heal –I can just go back home to where I came from. It will be normal again. But losing someone like that… you're right. You can't pretend he didn't exist. What you two had must've been incredible, and I don't know if I've ever felt something like that. Or if I ever will. And… even though he's not here he's still… here. I mean, if everyone loved him then they won't forget him. And as long as he's remembered, he's… alive, so to speak. Like… if an artist dies, their art stays the same. And people can look at it and still feel the way they would if the artist were alive. If that makes any sense." That doesn't even make sense to me.

Jean tries to smile. "You're really something? You know that?"

I smile. "Thanks… I think." We sit quietly for a while until Jean is more calmed down.

"Can I ask a favor?" I nod. "Can you play that song again? I liked it."

I smile. "Yes, of course."

Jean stands and wheels me over to the piano. "Thanks," I say. I put my hands onto the piano and close my eyes. The first few chords play, and then the melody starts. Playing it feels like… home. I can hear the vocal part in my head, and I hum it along with the piano. The words are still a mystery, but the tune is easy to remember. I didn't know I could sing. I wonder where I learned.

Who did I play for before this? Did I have a sibling? Best friend? Significant other? Did I only ever play for myself? Maybe. I don't think I could've learned by teaching myself. I must've had a teacher. Were they male or female? Were we related? How long have I played piano? So many questions. I just want answers.

Something's missing from the music, I realize. The pedals. I'm supposed to use them. But I can't move my legs. What if I never can? What if the music is always missing something?

It takes me a while to realize I've stopped playing. I open my eyes. Jean is staring at my hands on the keys.

"That song. Do you know what it's called?" I shake my head. "Maybe we could find out what it is. That might help you remember something."

I surprised. "You'd help me get my memories back?" He nods.

"It's not like I have any other plans. Can you try to remember another song?" I frown. Maybe if I…

I place my hands on the piano, this time in a different position. I keep my eyes open and stare at the keys. My fingers start moving hesitantly. This time it's a lullaby. It's pretty. I can almost remember the words, but they slip out of my grasp. I continue. I like it almost as much as I like the other song. It has depth. It makes me think of… a hug. One specific hug. I can feel it, and it's comforting and warm. But I don't know who it's from. I can't tell who it is that's reaching out to me. I finish the song.

Jean claps for me again. "That was really good."

"Thank you. It gave me a memory." My lips tug into a smile.

"Really? What was the memory?" He sounds excited.

"A hug. I don't know who it was from, but I could feel it. It was… nice."

"That's great! That means there's someone out there that might come and find you."

"Yeah, let's hope." My smile fades a little. We sit in silence for a while.

"Hey, I have an idea. It could help you get your memory back."

 **A/N: I meant to upload yesterday but totally forgot. Sorry! Anyway, that's Jean and his back story! I'M SORRY I MADE A HALF JOKE I COULDN'T HELP IT! I honestly didn't want to kill of Marco but it was just so vital to the story. More details on that are coming up. I can't wait to post the next chapter. Armin makes some progress with his memories!**

 **As always, enjoy, follow, favorite, review, and the like! And go ahead and read some of my other stories!**


	3. Names

I turn to look at Jean. "We could look through one of those baby name books and see if any of them ring a bell for you." My smile returns.

"Yeah. That's a great idea, Jean. But… where exactly are we going to find one?" He starts moving my wheelchair.

"One of the nurses has one in her purse. I've seen her reading through it before. She's pregnant, I think."

"Oh, okay. Let's find her." I let Jean wheel me around until we run into a nurse who does appear to be recently pregnant. He asks her if we can borrow the book to look for my name. She tells us to wait a minute while she goes to get it. I make sure to thank her politely when she comes back with it. Jean and I return to the sitting room and he starts reading through it for me. Ironically, the very first name on the list catches my attention.

"Aaron."

"Wait, that sounds familiar. How is it spelled?" Jean seems surprised that the first name is familiar but he spells it anyway.

"A-a-r-o-n." No.

"The name is familiar but the spelling is off. Is there another way to spell it?" It really sounds familiar. I'm sure I know someone with that name.

"Well, there's the female version E-r-i-n. Is that it?" I shake my head.

"I know that name. I know there's someone named Aaron, but it's not spelled that way." Jean writes it down.

"Well that's definitely progress, right? Do you want to keep going?" I nod. Jean reads a few more from the 'A' section before I recognize another.

"Anita."

"No."

"Annie." Oh.

"Yeah, I know that one!" I smile. Who does it belong to? Jean writes it down under Aaron.

"Do you know who it belongs to?" I shake my head. "Let's keep going then."

Jean reads through lots more names, none of which sound familiar.

"Arlene."

"No."

"Armin."

"No- wait –yes. It's familiar."

"How familiar?"

"I don't know. It definitely rings a bell. Keep reading."

More names. We go through the A's, and then the B's, but one 'C' name puts up a flag.

"Christa."

"Yes, I know that name!" I feel another rush of excitement. It's also written down.

"Do you know who she is?" I shake my head. More and more names are read. A few are recognizable. The list grows little by little.

Aaron. Annie. Armin. Christa. Connie. Levi. Sasha. But I don't remember faces for any of them. I don't know how any of them relate. They could be friends, enemies, family- I have no idea. I get tired of hearing name after name so I ask Jean to stop. We read through the list of familiars multiple times, trying to find some connection to me.

Eventually a nurse comes in and tells us it's time for dinner. He wheels me to a dining room and Jean walks quietly behind us. We find seats at a nearly-empty table. There is one girl sitting there, but she stares at her plate without acknowledging us.

Jean and I eat in silence for a while. The food isn't great, but it could definitely be worse. Who used to cook for me? Can I cook? Does my mother make my food? Do I still live with my mother?

"Hey Jean?"

"Hm?"

"How old do you think I am? I'm just curious." He thinks for a minute.

"I'd say eighteen. You're definitely somewhere in between mid- teens and twenties."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." He nods in response.

"Hey, um what you said earlier. When we were talking about Marco, you said 'If you heal.' What did you mean by that? Memories come back, right?"

"Uh, yeah. The memories are supposed to come back fairly quickly. Within a few days, even. But, you know, I was hit by a car. My spine, it uh… it has a crack in it. And my legs are both fractured. They'll heal but… the doctor's not sure about the spine. I mean, he says the odds are good. I'm a fast healer. I think. It'll probably be fine." I hope. I hide my concern with a grin.

"And if it's not fine?" I can feel my face fall, though I try to remain positive.

"Well uh… then I can't… I can't walk. Ever." I get scared all over again.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay. You told me about Marco, so I owe you. Anyway, I'm finished eating. What happens now?"

"Well I have a session with my therapist every Monday and Thursday after dinner. It's Thursday, by the way. October 30th. I hope you didn't have plans for Halloween, because you're gonna miss them." I nod.

"Okay. Then I'll see you later, I guess. Bye."

"Yeah, see you." He gets up and exits the dining room. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. A nurse comes and finds me.

"Hello John, the doctor wants to see you." John?

"Uh, my name's not John." He smiles at me and starts moving my wheelchair.

"John means John Doe. It's what they call unidentified patients. It'll only last a little while until you can tell us your name." I reach into my pocket and feel the list of names. Surely one of them is mine.

We eventually get back to the room where I woke up. The doctor arrives moments later and the nurse leaves.

"Hello again, how are you feeling?" I smile.

"I'm okay. I remembered a few names."

"That's great. Did one of those names happen to be your own?" I shrug. "Did you remember any faces?" I shake my head. "Is there anything else you remembered, other than the names?"

"Yes. I remembered how to play the piano."

"That's good progress. Did you meet any people here? I know you were feeling lonely earlier."

"Yeah, I made friends with another patient. Jean Kirstein." The doctor smiles.

"Excellent. I'm sure you're both glad to have friends here." I nod. "We need to talk about your room. This here is where we temporarily place new patients. But if you feel you're ready, we can take you to a room that will probably be more… homelike." I nod my head. Anything less boring than this would be excellent. "You said earlier you don't like to be alone. We can get you a shared room if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful." I smile. Being alone after everything that's happened would be horrible.

"I'll have it arranged. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Actually yes. When I my memory returns, what are the procedures for getting me home?"

"Well, every case is different. But usually we'll have you stay in the Institute until we're absolutely sure you're over your amnesia. Some patients, but not all, have relapses and they forget the things they've re-learned. Your friends and family can come visit you here during the time here, though. When we're certain you've made a full recovery you can have a friend or family member check you out of the facility." I nod.

"That makes sense. Thank you Dr. Erwin."

"Not a problem. Is there anything else?" I shake my head. "Alright. I'll have your room arranged. You have sessions with a psychologist every day from two to three, starting tomorrow. The medications for your injuries will be brought to your room before breakfast and after dinner each day."

"Okay. Thanks again." He nods and walks out.

I wheel myself to the sitting room where I met Jean. I play the two songs on piano over and over until the words of the first one start to come back. I only remember bits and pieces of lyrics, so I hum the rest. It's not English. I think it's French. I don't think I speak French, so I'm not entirely sure. I wish I had the sheet music for it though. Then I could make sure the words are correct. Jean comes in after about an hour. He sits and listens to the song and my singing until I finish.

"You remembered the words. That's good." He sounds troubled.

"Yeah, some of them. Are you alright?"

He sighs. "I just wasted another hour of my life listening to somebody explain why holding onto Marco is the worst thing I could do. She didn't even know him."

I feel the need to ask, "How long ago did he…?" I trail off, not sure if it's an okay thing to say.

"Die? Eight months." Jean scowls. "We were going out for a date. He had tickets to this music festival thing at the park. He had really been looking forward to it. He loved music. But he slipped on the way down the stairs. Hit his head wrong on the railing and that was it. He didn't even know he was going to die. One second he was perfectly healthy and the next… gone. They called it before he was even in the ambulance."

I can't even imagine something like that. Being so happy and then devastated the next second. "It must feel… terrible." He nods.

"His last words were 'I love you' before he slipped. What are the odds, right?" Jean scratches the back of his head. "But it was so… Marco. If those were going to be anyone's last words, they would be his."

"He sounds amazing. I would've liked to know him." Jean looks at me.

"Wouldn't that be something? You get your memories back and realize you knew Marco."

"I don't think it'll happen. I didn't recognize his name. But it would definitely be ironic."

If Marco was really as great as Jean says, I'm sure I would've remembered him. Are any of my friends that great? I think through the list again. Aaron. With a different spelling. Is that me or someone I know? Annie. How do I know her? Is she my friend or sister? Armin. Is he my best friend? Brother? Christa. What does she look like? Is she nice? Connie. Where did we meet? School? Levi. How long have I known him? Were we childhood friends? Sasha. Do we talk often? Is she my girlfriend?

Do I have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Or maybe I'm single. Do my friends live in New York? Do I? If I'm here on vacation, surely someone will notice when I don't come back. They'll come find me. I just want to go home, wherever that is.

 **A/N: Hello again, lovelies! I've been super duper lazy this past week or so, and I totally thought I had already uploaded this chapter like a week ago! Whoops; I was mistaken. I hope you like it.**

 **I was trying to think of ways to kill off Marco, but I just couldn't let him suffer before death. So… instant death was my best option.**

 **And as always, enjoy, favorite, follow, review, and the like! And if you find any issues with the story, please let me know so I can fix it!**


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